


Crash Barriers, Cold Night Air

by philsdrill



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Cute Dan Howell/Phil Lester, Dan Howell - Freeform, M/M, Phan - Freeform, Phan Fluff, Phandom - Freeform, Phanfiction, Phil Lester - Freeform, Sick Character, Sickfic, Tour, Tour Bus, Vomit, Vomiting, phanfic, phanfluff, sick, tabinof
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 08:38:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14304939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philsdrill/pseuds/philsdrill
Summary: It’s a bumpy night on the tour bus for Dan and Phil, and Phil’s feeling a little sick. Through a trip outside to get off the bus, and a reminder of what dinner looked like, Dan takes care of Phil. Fluff.





	Crash Barriers, Cold Night Air

**Author's Note:**

> The characters of their tour manager and bus driver are completely made up. I have no idea what their driver(s) are called or even what they have in the way of a manager. Also I wrote most of this before they tweeted about the bedroom with the TV, so yeah, they have bunks in this.
> 
> If you happen to have read this before, I posted this in May 2016 on tumblr. Also if anyone's interested in following me on tumblr - I'm more active on there and there's more fics - you can find me at [philsdrill](https://philsdrill.tumblr.com).

**Phil’s POV:**

It was getting later and later and I still couldn’t sleep. I grabbed my phone from where it lay next to me and glanced at the time. Three am. I let out a groan; it wasn’t as if anyone would hear it anyway; we all had earplugs in. We reached the summit of yet another small hill and I felt the contents of my stomach lurch as we began the descent down the other side. It had been like this for the last two hours: bumps in the road every couple of minutes, me being unable to sleep because I felt so ill.

I’d been relatively prepared for this; I had motion-sickness wristbands and a stack of cardboard sick bowls just in case. The thing I’d forgotten were the travel sickness tablets. The wristbands worked to an extent, when the road was smoother; maybe I just didn’t have them positioned right.

Currently, I was lying on my bunk, a sick bowl next to my head, hands on my stomach as they were cool and making it feel the tiniest bit better. A while ago I’d taken out my earplugs and abandoned the sleeping mask, knowing that I wasn’t going to be sleeping any time soon. I wondered if getting up would help. Maybe I should go down and sit in the lounge area. It was worth a shot.

Slowly and carefully, I clambered down the ladder, taking my sick bowl with me. I was standing in the space between the bunks, deciding if I should take anything else, when the bus went over a bump. I did not have bus legs, not one bit. I found myself flailing for something to hold onto, something to stop me from falling.

It was a bit of a blur, but a second later I found myself half on the floor, half sprawled on top of Dan.

**Dan’s POV:**

I was awoken suddenly by something, or rather, someone, falling on me.

“Oof,” I grunted, rubbing my eyes and taking my earplugs out, “Hi Phil.”

“Sorry for waking you,” he apologised, “We went over a bump in the road and I fell over.”

“It’s okay, but what are you doing up?” I asked him, stopping to glance at the time, “It’s three am, Phil.”

“I can’t sleep,” Phil told me, “This roads too bumpy and I feel sick. I was going to go and sit one of the comfy seats and maybe get a drink of water.”

I wriggled around a bit, pulling myself into a seated position and dangled my legs over the edge of the bed.

“Sit down,” I told him, patting the bed next to me.

I watched Phil get up from the floor. He had one of his cardboard puke-bucket things in one hand, and although it was hard to tell in the low lighting, he was looking a bit paler than usual. He sat down on the bed to me and snuggled into my side.

“How sick are you feeling?” I asked him, now noticing a sheen on his forehead.

“I haven’t slept at all. I just can’t. This road is so hilly and bumpy and my stomach feels all wobbly and bouncy,” he told me, resting his head on my shoulder.

I lifted my hand to his forehead to feel it for myself. He was a bit warm, but mainly just sweaty. I moved my hand away again, trying to decide what I should do. At that moment, the bus topped another hill and Phil let out a groan, holding his stomach. He looked like he was going to throw up and I didn’t know how much longer he could stomach being on the bus.

“Phil you don’t really seem too good. I’m going to ask the drivers if they can pull over for a couple of minutes so we can get off the bus,” I told him, “You stay here. I’ll be right back.”

I got up and made the short journey to the front of the bus. I knocked tentatively on the door into the drivers’ cab before opening it so it wasn’t too much of a surprise.

“Hey Frank,” I said, “Sorry to bother you, but any chance you could pull over for a couple minutes. Phil’s feeling really travel sick and I think he might throw up if he’s on here much longer.”

“Yeah, of course,” he said, “I’ll do that right away. If he’s gonna be sick, then outside is the best place to do that.”

“Thanks,” I replied, now making my way back to Phil.

“He’s about to pull over,” I warned Phil, sitting back down next to him and putting an arm around him.

The tour bus slowed down and then slowly pulled into the right. Once it had stopped, I helped Phil to his feet and took his hand, hoping to get him off the bus as quickly as possible.

Frank had the door opened for is before we got there. I encouraged Phil to go ahead of me, but I followed closely behind, taking his hand again once we were outside. It was only when my feet hit the cool hard road surface, that I realised we’d forgotten to put shoes on. Turning back to get some wasn’t really an option, I decided as we walked towards the side of the road.

“Phil, do you want to sit down?” I asked him, seeing that this road had a barrier at the side that we could sit on.

“I don’t know,” he groaned, “I feel…”

“You think you’re going to be sick?” I asked him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Probably,” he said, lifting his other hand to rub his stomach slightly.

“Okay,” I said, guiding him towards the grass, “The grass is probably the best place.”

Phil nodded. I wasn’t really sure what else to say. If he was sure he was going to puke, then there wasn’t really anything I could do right now. It was really just a case of waiting for the inevitable. I moved my hand to rest on his back and rubbed circles with my thumb.

“You might start to feel better because we’re off the bus,” I told him.

Barely seconds after the words had left my mouth, Phil let out a loud retching sound and leant forwards. Another couple of seconds later, he retched again and this time it was accompanied by the sound of his dinner landing on the ground in front of us.

Phil slowly stood up straight again and took a step back. In the moonlight, I could see moisture glistening in his eyes and tears starting to make their way down his cheeks.

“Don’t worry, you’re going to be okay,” I told him, rubbing his back.

“I…” Phil started to speak, before bending over again and throwing up a little more.

“I feel horrible,” he told me, straightening back up again.

His voice was really rough and speaking started him coughing.

“We’ll get you some water in a couple of minutes,” I told him, “Do you think you’re done?”

“I think so,” he responded shakily.

“Right, we’ll go sit on the barrier for a minute or two before we get back on the bus,” I told him, wrapping my arm around him, and guiding him towards it.

“Fuck, it’s freezing,” I exclaimed as I sat down, “Phil, sit on my knee. You’re gonna freeze otherwise.” 

Phil didn’t object to my suggestion and did as I said. I wrapped both my arms around him, because he was cold; I didn’t want him getting any colder. I rubbed my hands up and down his goosebumped arms. I wasn’t so cold, but then I had a long sleeved top and I wasn’t the one who’d just thrown up.

“You’re cold,” I told Phil; he probably knew, but I told him anyway, in case his thermostat was mucked up. “I’m going to give you my shirt.”

I expected Phil to reject my offer, to say that he was fine. However, he just nodded and said ‘okay’. He wouldn’t have done that normally. I pulled the pyjama top up and over my head, then down over Phil’s. I got him to lift one arm up at a time, and helped him put it on.

My back now exposed, I squished myself closer to Phil. I was going to get cold, I knew that, but it didn’t matter. What was important was Phil being warm.

“Is that better?” I asked him.

“Yeah, thanks,” he replied, his voice slightly less shaky.

We stayed there another minute, Phil on my knee, his head tipped back and resting on my shoulder. He was looking a bit better now. Maybe it was time to get back on the bus before we both froze.

“Phil,” I spoke up, disturbing the silence that had fallen in the last minute or so, “How do you feel about going back onto the bus?”

“Okay, I think,” he told me, “I don’t feel so sick now.”

“That’s good,” I told him, “Come on, I’ll carry you.”

I stood up, scooping Phil into my arms and headed back towards the door of the bus. Carrying him up the narrow stairs was a little awkward, but we managed.

Before heading back towards our bunks, I popped my head around the door to the drivers’ cab again.

“We’re back on now; you can shut the door,” I told Frank, “And thanks for stopping.”

“It’s fine, it’s hardly even a delay,” he replied, “Is Phil alright though? That didn’t look too good.”

“I’m okay,” Phil replied, his voice reminding me I needed to get him a drink.

“Good good. Now I’ll give you guys a couple of minutes to get back into bed and everything before we get going,” he told us, “Try and get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

I thanked Frank once more before continuing the journey to my bunk with Phil. I set him down on my bed, while I looked in his for a bottle of water.

Phil had a bottle of water lying on his bunk, which I was guessing he’d been drinking earlier in attempt to try and make himself feel a bit better. I passed it down to him and grabbed his earplugs - those were also lying on the bed - because he would need them if he wanted to sleep well.

Phil’s earplugs in one hand, I sat down next to him. He was slowly sipping at the water and starting to look a little better. As the bed sunk underneath me, he gently nudged my arm with his shoulder to indicate he’d like a hug.

I wrapped my arm around behind him and pulled him close to my side, “You okay?”

“I think so,” he yawned, “I’m tired though. Can we sleep?”

“Yeah sure, Phil,” I told him, opening up my other hand, “I grabbed your earplugs while I was up there too… I’d like you to stay with me, if that’s okay?”

“Yeah, that would be good,” Phil replied, “I’m honestly too exhausted to climb a ladder right now.”

Making my bed ready to sleep in again, I found the sick bowl Phil had left here earlier. I placed it on the floor next to the bunk.

“Let’s hope you don’t, but if you need that at any point, it’s right there,” I told Phil, gesturing to the bowl, “And wake me if you wake up feeling sick.”

Squashing myself right up against the wall, I lifted the covers for Phil to come under. There wasn’t a lot of space and there is no way I’d be able to turn over in my sleep, but that didn’t matter. As Phil lay down next to me, I wound my arms around his middle. I gently rubbed my thumb over his stomach in a comforting action, and that way I could stop him from rolling off the bed so easily.

“I still don’t know if I’ll be able to get to sleep,” Phil worried around.

“On a scale of one to ten, how tired are you?” I asked him.

“Honestly, like eleven,” he replied, not even bothering to laugh.

“I think you’ll manage,” I told him, “You no longer have all that food rumbling about to worry about.”

“Okay, I’ll try my best,” he told me, about to put his earplugs in.

“Oh and Phil,” I said quickly, getting his attention quickly before he blocked the sound out, “If you can’t sleep again tomorrow, please tell me earlier, okay? I have sleeping tablets for when I can’t sleep and there’s nothing to stop you taking one. You just need to have it early enough that you have time to sleep it off.”

“Alright,” he said, nodding slightly, “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Goodnight Phil,” I said to him, nuzzling into him slightly.

“G’night Dan,” he replied sleepily, now putting his earplugs in to block out the sound of the bus.

I laid awake for ten minutes until I was sure Phil was asleep. He fell asleep remarkably quickly and was now snoring quietly. I reached for my earplugs, so I, myself, could get back to sleep. Now Phil was asleep the fatigue had hit me; for the past half hour I’d been running on the pure adrenaline that came with being woken up suddenly in the middle of the night and going outside. It’s a strange feeling, not one you’d know unless you’ve experienced it yourself: the blood pumping through your veins because this is just such an out-of-the-ordinary experience, so unlike the nights where you are at home in your own bed, the cold night air being a sudden awakening. Change is exciting, yet exhausting.

Next to my earplugs was my sleep mask. Phil and I had both purchased them so we wouldn’t wake up with the morning light. Both of us knew that sleeping well would be a bit of a challenge on this trip, and we were certainly right on that one. I was about to pull the mask down over my eyes when I remembered Phil hadn’t had any sleep yet. He was going to be exhausted tomorrow if he didn’t get a long lie. I didn’t want him looking like L from Deathnote for our meetup tomorrow. The fans would all ask what was wrong, and although he’d be happy to explain that he’d been up half the night feeling travel sick, I’d rather he wasn’t so tired that he’d have to. It was going to be another long day tomorrow and I didn’t want to have to deal with a tired Phil. Phil wouldn’t want to be dealing with a tired Phil either.

Very carefully, so as not to wake him, I pulled the sleep mask down over Phil’s eyes. I waited for a few moments to make sure I hadn’t disturbed him, before putting my own earplugs in and getting comfortable.

It didn’t take me long to get back to sleep either. Although he’d been freezing ten minutes previously, Phil was now like a small oven keeping me warm. He was still wearing my shirt, but between him and my duvet, I was pleasantly cosy.

—-

Bright light shining red through my eyelids. Confused. Disorientated. Those were the feelings that hit me when I woke. It took me a few seconds to get my bearings. I was in my bunk on the tour bus and had Phil cuddled up extremely close with me. He was still sleeping peacefully, thankfully. I was glad we hadn’t had to make a second trip outside during the night.

I looked around to find the source of the light that had woken me. It seemed that everyone else was up, and had probably opened all the curtains and turned the lights on in attempt to wake us. Very close by I could hear the voices of our tour manager, Susan and Phil’s brother, Martyn. They were having a discussion about our merchandise, and rather loudly at that. I knew he had earplugs in, but at the volume they were talking, I felt they could wake Phil anyway.

“Martyn, Susan,” I spoke up, getting their attention, covering Phil’s ears with my hands also.

“Hey Dan, you’re up. Something going on with you and my little brother?” Martyn joked, but I could see he was looking for an explanation.

“He was up until about four feeling really sick. We had to stop for a couple of minutes so he could throw up outside. He was really cold and tired and whatever, just looking after him,” I explained, keeping my voice quiet. “Could you maybe keep it down a bit and shut some of the curtains again though? He’s going to need a bit more sleep.”

Both of them looked a little concerned and Martyn hurried to shut over the curtains.

“Ohh… of course,” he said, “Sorry, I didn’t realise.”

“S’okay,” I told him, getting comfy again next to Phil.

I continued to lay there for the next hour or so. I might’ve got up if Phil and I hadn’t quite been so close, but I stayed as I didn’t want to wake him. I fell in and out of consciousness, a light sleep only disturbed periodically by bumps in the road.

I was awake when Phil woke, a yawning sound telling me he was no longer asleep.

“Hey Phil,” I spoke softly, pushing myself up so I could see his face, “You’re awake. How are you feeling?”

“Oh, hi Dan,” he replied, sounding a little confused, “Sorry, hadn’t noticed you were awake yet. I’m okay-ish, not great, but a lot better than I was last night.”

“That’s good,” I told him with a smile, “Also, don’t get confused by the curtains, everyone else is up already.”

“Wait, what?” Phil asked me, confused, as he looked around the bus.

“I woke up about an hour ago because of the light. Martyn and Cornelia and everyone had got up and opened the curtains. I told them you’d been sick last night and needed some more sleep so Martyn shut them again and they’ve been keeping the noise down,” I explained.

“Ahh okay,” Phil said, no longer looking puzzled, “Thank you.”

“It’s alright,” I replied, “Now, how do you feel about getting up? Or do you need a bit longer in bed?”

“I think I’ll get up,” he told me, “I’m not feeling too bad at the moment. I might even have a little breakfast.”

“Okayyyyee,” I yawned, having a small stretch, “Just don’t overdo it, okay?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” Phil assured me, swinging his legs down onto the floor and slowly sitting up, “I don’t want to spend this entire trip throwing up; it’s difficult though.”

I sat up next to Phil and gave him a brief hug, before we stood up and made our way to the kitchen area.

“Hey Dan, hey Phil,” Martyn greeted us in turn, “How’re you feeling?”

“Not wonderful, but okay,” Phil answered his brother, “I’m going to have a little to eat and then hopefully have a relaxing morning.”

Martyn seemed satisfied with Phil’s health and returned his attention to a book he was reading. Phil made himself a slice of toast and I made some cereal, which we sat down on the sofa to eat.

“Phil,” I said, starting a new conversation after we had finished our food, “Please tell me if you’re feeling sick again or anything; I’m right here for you, and like feel free to go back to bed and have a nap if it helps.”

“I will, thanks,” Phil replied, sitting back on the sofa, “I’m okay at the moment, though.”

I was relieved that Phil was feeling a bit better; I think everyone was. None of us wanted him to be too tired to function or too ill to perform. We wanted the tour to go well, for everyone to be happy, and I was going to do whatever I could to make that happen.


End file.
